


Outside the Box

by SpookyHoodlum



Category: Mad Max (Video Game 2015)
Genre: F/M, War Boys Being War Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 09:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13737927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyHoodlum/pseuds/SpookyHoodlum
Summary: A survivor of a massacre accidentally stows away into a War Boy camp. Making this up as I go.





	Outside the Box

The rest of the camp was dead, Mearl knew because she heard it. The plan was to hide in the trunk and then run for it when they left, but suddenly she was being lifted and hoisted into the back of a vehicle. She had tampered the lock so it would only open on the inside. They didn't look at the contents before taking the trunk. They saw reinforcements coming, no time to rummage. Even if it was full of junk, it was useful for storage. Good for them, really bad for her. It felt like hours of jostling and thumping while Mearl laid curled in the sweltering darkness. The Boys were laughing and going on about their kills and loot, how someone she knew squealed when they slit him open. Her stomach churned at the thought of it. They'll do the same when they found her.   
  
The jostling finally stopped and soon she was being lifted, and then set down. More noise around her, they were unloading their haul. She had to act now. She undid the lock and threw the lid open, the sun temporarily blinding her. There was silence, and as she scrambled from the trunk and bolted all hell broke loose. The closest War Boy lunged for her and missed. Mearl's legs were stiff and she stumbled, kicking up dirt and sand as she fought to retain her footing. Voices shouted all around her.   
  
_“Roadkill!” “Grab em!” “Don't let em get away!”_  
  
Two arms snapped around her waist and snatched her off the ground. Mearl thrashed and kicked so hard he nearly dropped her. Another swooped in to catch her legs, not before she gave him a good kick in the ribs.   
  
_“Get em in here!” “Where'd he come from??”_   
  
Mearl screamed and swiped at the air. “Let go of me! Let go!” Panic began to set in when she couldn't struggle free of their grip. There was no time to take in anyone's faces or her surroundings in a blur of movement and noise. Something hard thumped the back of her head and turned the world fuzzy. The shouting faded as she lost consciousness.   
  
*  
  
No one could have seen it coming; that trunk didn't seem big enough to hold anything living. Winch snatched the Roadkill off the ground when they ran, although they struggle with more strength than he expected. Gasket grabbed the legs and got a nice bruise on his ribs for the trouble. Nobody got a good look until Winch whacked them in the head and they sagged like a stomped lizard.   
  
They laid the prisoner down on a table where they finally got a good look at _her_ face. She was young with a thin body, narrow face and sandy-blond hair. The right of her mouth was scarred from the corner to halfway across her cheek. It had been slashed and then stitched up again. Once they got a look they began the strip search. She wore a worn leather jacket that was much too big for her scrawny frame.  
  
“That'll be mine!” Gasket snatched the garment up as soon as they removed it.   
  
“Oi! I caught her.” Winch scowled, grabbing for it as Gasket dodged out of his reach.   
  
“Yeah well the brat kicked me. You can have the rest.”   
  
Winch wanted to retort that _he_ knocked her out so she'd stop kicking, but let it go for now. Some of the others crowded around to get a look at the prisoner. There were some random bits of scrap in her pockets, nothing of interest. Winch claimed the girl's beaded necklace and stiletto knife before anyone else could. Nobody protested, she was still his catch. A few boys expressed interest in her dusty red boots, but upon closer inspection they were far too small for any of them. So they were tossed in a box; a prisoner had trouble escaping without shoes.   
  
“What we gonna do with her?” Gasket stroked his new jacket still draped over his arm.   
  
“It's a female, she can make Pups!” One of the youngest called from the back. Another laughed and swatted him upside the head. “Idiot, you don't even know where Pups come from!”   
  
“Still don't know why she was in there. She coulda meant to run and find more Roadkill scum and bring em back to try and scrap us.” Winch mused as he turned her head to look closer at her scar.   
  
“Roadkill ain't that clever.” Gasket scoffed. “Maybe they were gonna sell her. She's almost shiny.”  
  
“Don't know for sure.” He scooped the girl over his shoulder; much lighter when she wasn't thrashing like a Pup on Wash Day. “We'll lock her up and make her talk when she comes to.”   
  
“ _You_ can do that, long as she's caged I don't care.” Gasket left, holding his prize close and snapping at Shanks to keep his greasy mitts off. Winch grumbled and carried the unconscious girl to a group of cages outside near the yard. He bundled her into an empty one and made sure it was locked tight. Despite what Gasket said, she was clever enough to get into their camp undetected. Winch watched her for a moment before he returned outside. There was still loot to divide up and scrap to sort. The Roadkill girl would be forgotten for now.

 


End file.
